Winning the Battle Losing the War
by b-mystique
Summary: Part of him was surprised to see Jessica there. The other part of him knew she was coming. "Little do they know, we don't understand our relationship." "We're not going to discuss this," she said in a warning tone. "That's the problem, we never discuss it." Post "Sucker Punch". Harvey and Jessica deal with the fallout of Hardman and confront their relationship and each other.


**A/N:** This has some mentions of the episode "Sucker Punch". I guess I can't quite shake the need to add to the Jessica and Jessica/Harvey fandom. It's one of the reasons I work up the nerve to keep writing and posting. I don't consider myself a shipper per se. I just love the complex bond that those two have. I'm also not really much of a romance writer, but I wanted to try something new for all the Jarvey shippers.

I'd love to dedicate this to nakala. You read my stuff and you say such overwhelming nice things while imploring me to write a multi fic. If I ever do, you'll be one of the first to know. LOL! Also to seh28, you're always too kind in your reviews…especially since your work far exceeds mine! It always means so much :) To Flynne, and my shy anonymous reviewers and well…everyone who reads and reviews. I'm always surprised and overwhelmed when anyone reads my work and reviews it. So I thank you all.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything or anyone. I'd love to own half of Jessica and Donna's wardrobe, and all of Harvey Specter. No worries…I would share. ;) All errors are mine…and possibly the document manager, and definitely the sleep deprivation. Honest reviews are welcome.

~o~

_There was that moment in battle, where the air was thick with the smell of napalm, the stench of defeat and failure. The moment where he found himself lying there, sprawled across a battlefield of broken dreams and enviable aspirations. To his left casualties of war…Mike…Donna. To his right, his fallen leader dull eyes no longer ablaze with the will to prevail….Jessica. The presence of friend like foes encompasses them….Rachel…Louis, too fearful to risk being enemies of the state, too willing to grasp the coattails of victory wherever it may fall. There was that moment when all the fight was out of him, and all there was left for him to do was brace himself for Hardman's final blow. He reaches out and grabs her hand, squeezes it in thanks, in an apology, in a goodbye. He closes his eyes…and he waits._

The soft knocking at the door brought him back to the present. The new rhythm mixed with the melodies of his father's music crackling away on the old record player. He sighed and contemplated ignoring it as he had all the other knocks over the past week, before finally caving. With a deep sigh and he rose from the couch and took his sweet time shuffling to the door, clenching his jaw tightly before unlocking it and wrenching it open.

Part of him was surprised to see Jessica standing there. The other part of him knew she was coming. She stood before him, eyes blank in a way he wasn't quite accustom too. Her hair tumbled over her exposed shoulder and fell down the red sleeveless top she was wearing. He was quite fond of her in red. It complimented her rich caramel skin tone. It was vibrant and bright and enhanced her already stunning features. He realized he was ogling, getting lost in the curve of her neck and the sparkle of the earrings he bought her last year for her birthday.

She said nothing as he swallowed hard and moved out of the way so that she could enter. He searched her eyes, scanned her face but she dropped her head down, causing a curtain of dark hair to cover her face, as she strode right past him, towards the windows of his penthouse, overlooking the city.

He didn't say anything either. Instead he disappeared into the kitchen nook and busied himself filling up the tea kettle. He leaned against the counter and studied her as he waited for the water to heat. City lights made shadows across her face as she continued to silently stare ahead, hugging herself protectively, but still maintaining that imperial stance of hers. If he were so inclined to believe in multiple lifetimes, he'd swear she was royalty in a past one. The sound of the tea kettle whistling snapped him out of it and before he knew it he was carefully approaching her with a steaming mug.

"Thank you," she said quietly as her fingers grazed his. She must have picked up on the uncertainty he was feeling because she finally made eye contact with him. "You look like shit."

It was almost enough to make him smile. It was so familiar and quintessentially _them _to start a conversation with sarcastic overtures and insults, even if they hadn't spoken in over a week.

"I wish I could say the same," he responded truthfully, choosing to ignore her red rimmed eyes. He hoped to get at the very least a smirk out of her. But a smirk would have been ideal. A smirk would have been if this was any other time, any other day, any other moment when their friendship was at its steadiest. He hoped for a smirk…but he knew he wouldn't get one. He wouldn't be Harvey Specter, however, if he didn't give it a try. Instead she got that vacant look in her eye again and disappeared across the room leaving him standing there lost in the lingering scent of Vanilla and Sandalwood that she left behind.

"I was surprised to hear from you," she said quietly. Her voice was worn and tired, as though she no longer had the energy to use it anymore. "It only took a week and a half…"she said with that familiar bite, as her eyes met his over the rim of her tea mug as she sipped.

"It's not like I have an assistant anymore." he responded instantly. He could hear the sarcasm in his voice and did his best to tamper it down. "I'm surprised you came over instead of just calling back. And at this hour."

"It's not like I have anywhere to be in the morning!" she snapped back punctuating her statement by setting her tea mug on the coffee table. Hard.

He unconsciously recoiled at the twinge of anger in her voice. That wave of defeat washed over him again, coupled with the overwhelming feeling of guilt he had whenever he disappointed her. It was a feeling he'd become familiar with over the years but nothing like in that moment Hardman announced that they were taking a second vote. And definitely nothing close to that moment when his eyes met Jessica's from across the offices, as they both collected the last of their things. The painful silence that ensconced them as they descended in the elevator of P-…of _Hardman,_ together, before going their separate ways without so much as a word exchanged between them. He remembered thinking at the time, that in all the years that they've known one another she had never been so angry with him that she couldn't speak. It was one more thing that left him in a perpetual state of unsettlement since the day they left.

"Jessica-"he started as he made his way towards the sofa and sat beside her.

"Harvey…" she sighed exasperatedly, as she refused to look at him.

"I'm…I'm sorry." He stared intently at her until her dark eyes met his. "You know…I would…I would never have intentionally done anything to jeopardize you. I would have never done anything intentionally to…hurt you." He swallowed thickly and tried to mask the awkwardness he felt being so open with her, with the conviction that he meant.

"I…" she shuddered at his words and tried to cover it with a small cough. A deafening silence filled the room, the only sound being the soft pitter patter of raindrops hitting against the window. He studied her pointedly and she fiddled with the handle of her mug. He could practically feel her conflicting emotions. He could feel the way she was trying to contain herself, compose herself as she'd always done.

"I know that, Harvey. I know it…now. I do." She placed the mug down gently this time, and turned on the couch to face him. "It's what you unintentionally do that's the problem," she said evenly.

He felt as if a ton of bricks had hit him head on. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he cast a furtive glance down in shame. There weren't too many people on the Earth that could bring him to his knees…but Jessica Pearson was definitely one of them. The power she had over him was something that he fought against for years before finally succumbing to it, because whether he'd ever admit it to her or not…it made him better. And despite the fact that they never discussed it, their positions were mutual. Letting her down was as painstakingly horrible for him to deal with as it was letting his parents down.

"You've always been undisciplined, and goddammit I've always had great difficulty reigning you in…but this past year or so?" She gave out a bitter laugh that made him flinch. "That shit with Mike Ross and how you seemed so cavalier about Hardman for the longest of times….never before had I doubted that I could trust you. Never before had it crossed my mind that…" she stopped before her voice could crack and looked away from him again. He watched as she took a steady breath in another attempt to regain her composure. "Never before, did it ever cross my mind that I could be in this alone, Harvey."

He shook his head, clenched his jaw tightly as the brevity of her words shook him to his core. He felt the guilt again; the crushing weight against his chest as he opened his mouth to say something, anything that could alleviate the tension for her….himself. "Jessic-"

"Let me finish," she said suddenly, her voice cracking. "I'm not angry with you anymore, Harvey." She exhaled in a way that reminded him of schoolteachers, when they're clinging on to the last bit of patience they have with a petulant child. "I realized…I know…I'm not angry anymore."

"Why?" the errant thought floated out of his mouth without a second thought.

She turned away from him, eyes wandering back to the wonderment of the city lights outside. She sighed again and he wondered to himself if she actually heard him. The way she avoided his eyes and bit at her lower lip, he guessed that she could. It struck him how no one ever seen the Jessica that he did. They never could see beyond the surface of who she was. They got lost in her strength and silent power. They only noticed that regal way that she carried herself, the ferocity of her words and actions when it was called for. They never seen beyond the unshakeable and cool exterior, that confident and in control façade that she had up, like armor.

He always did though.

He could see the war within her to control her emotions. The glassy sheen to her eyes, and the way she kicked her shoes off and curled up on the couch with her knees tucked beneath her arms, wasn't so much a sign of her comfort, but her vulnerability. He could hear the soft breaths she kept exhaling to keep herself from crying. She never cried because she was sad…but mostly because she was frustrated. He could count on one hand the amount of times he seen her close to tears, and it pained him to know that most of the times were a result of him, even more so in the past few weeks.

She was an enigma. She was a contradiction in her own right. As much as he knew her, as much as he could read her, she still had a way of being an utter mystery to him as well. It was something he never could quite figure out or explain. _She_ was something he could never quite figure out or explain. She kept everything close to the vest, and in a way that's probably what bonded them the most. It's why he couldn't stay upset with her for too long when she questioned him on the stand. Because he knew deep down that she understood him better than anyone else. Most days she was the only one who never made him apologize for who he was…she just let him be, because he knew she could relate. He'd like to think he was the same with her. Some days she gazed at him with utter clarity and that knowing grin because she could see right through him. Other days, her brow would furrow slightly as she regarded him with utter bafflement, before she instinctually masked it with indifference.

"We are a lot alike, Harvey."

Her darks eyes met his, and once again he couldn't help but wonder if she really could read his thoughts.

"No shit," he said quietly as he tried his best to flash the Specter smirk.

"Harvey…"

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said flippantly. He noticed the spark in her eye and goddamn him he wanted it to stay there. Anything to replace that vacant look, or the defeated one, or even more gut wrenching…the disappointed gaze she gave him before slipping into that town car on their final day. That one haunted him on many of restless nights.

"I didn't intend it as one," she said smoothly as she brought her penetrating gaze to him.

"I'll never see it as anything but…" it was his turn to unleash the full intensity of his glare upon her.

She shook her head and sighed in frustration. "I know why you settled, Harvey. You only did it because you thought you were protecting us all. It took me a while to accept that." She raked her fingers through her hair absently, exhaled again. "What I didn't understand was why you didn't give me a warning before the vote. I didn't understand how the great Harvey Specter didn't think two steps ahead and see that we fell right into Daniel Hardman's web."

"That's not fair!" his voice escalated as he leaned forward, closer to her.

"I know," she responded quickly. He could tell that she was losing the battle she was having with her composure. She wasn't making as much of an effort to hide what she was thinking and feeling anymore. She was letting the mask slip. It didn't take long for him to ascertain the guilt she was feeling, the defeat, and the blame.

"I know," she said again. She looked up at him and gave him a sad smile. It was more than he could have bargained for because at least she was smiling at him again. "I realized that I was prodding you to go along with your emotions, let them out, let them win for us…so that…so that everyone else could see what I see-"

"Which is?" he interrupted her.

His stomach did that flip it always did when one or both of them pushed each other almost to the edge of flirting and innuendo without going over. It was like an adrenaline rush; both of them thriving off of the discomfort of the other, the awkwardness, and the simmering tension between them. It was positively thrilling, but he suspected, no, he_ knew_ that it was incomparable to the feeling he'd have if they actually fell over the precipice.

"Well," she started, clearing her throat and eying him suspiciously. She knew what he was up to. She almost always did. "That you're the most honorable man that I know." She paused and shifted in her seat beside him, forcing herself to look him dead in the eye. "You're a jackass of course," she said flippantly. "But that goes without saying. You're also the most loyal person I know. To a fault, really. And your integrity should never be in question because you've never truly given anyone reason to doubt it."

He was caught off guard by her sincerity. He felt a catch in his throat as he scratched his temple before letting his arm fall on the back of the couch behind her. The slightest hint of a smile that pulled at her lips, told him she was retaliating.

"I learned from the best," he responded boldly, marking another victory as she cleared her throat and busied herself with refilling her mug. She always exuded confidence but he knew that she never could truly take a compliment.

"Anyways," she said suddenly, redirecting them back to the previous conversation. "I knew all week that you were on the brink of being emotionally exposed as it was, with that outburst in the mock trial after Louis' particularly brutal line of questioning with Donna, and let us not forget the Tanner incident earlier in the week…"

"Hey, he deserved it and you know it," he said defensively, his expression smug and unapologetic. "Besides you were amused by it."

"I was not," she contested, the slight twitch of her lips most likely giving her away. "It was unprofessional, and rarely do you ever allow anyone to get under your skin like that."

"A small part of you was proud of me. A small part of you appreciated it. Admit it," he said it lightly but he couldn't keep the challenge out of his tone. He studied her; he almost wanted her to take it further. Dared her to ask why he did it, challenged her to inquire why of all things he go so fiercely on edge when _she_ was brought up. Part of him wanted her to venture one inch closer to the precipice, take one step closer to the edge, where they could for once and all address the veil of inexplicable chemistry that thrummed between them. The other part of him, however, silently prayed that she didn't.

"You egotistical bastard," she let out with a forced laugh. She tore her eyes away from the burning intensity of his gaze, shifted further back into the couch away from him, a subtle way of putting distance between them. He still took notice of it. He let out a barely audible sigh that she pretended to not hear.

"It would hardly seem appropriate for a managing partner to express any appreciating for barbaric behavior. Hardly the behavior to condone…" her face suddenly contorted as what she said sunk in. All traces of humor disappeared from his face, and she became sullen again, overtly serious, with that distant look in her eye. "Anyways, it hardly seemed fair that I would force you into being unguarded for the sake of the firm and then punish you later on for not being emotionally distant enough to sniff out Hardman's strike."

The way in which she crashed back down into reality made something inside of him sink. She was back to being a shell of the Jessica Pearson that he knew and revered. There was something about the sadness he seen in her eyes that made him want to reach out and touch her. Hold her hand in some gesture of comfort…or some other act that socially conscious people did. It was a war going on within him on whether or not to do it. It wasn't as though they never touched, a pat on the back or shoulder, the brush of their hands during a ride in the elevator or exchanging of papers, a playful punch, or even those times when she interlocked her arm with his as he escorted her around the room during company functions. They just never did anything for an extended period of time, and certainly nothing remotely intimate. They relied on some other magnetic force between them. It was in the way they orbited around one another in a room, moved in synch with one another, came as physically close to encroaching on one another's personal space without breaching it. Even then, he was aware of just how close they were; sitting beside each other, one of her legs folded beneath her…her knee mere inches away from his, or how close his arm was to the back of her neck, his fingers millimeters away from brushing against her ear. In many ways it was more intimate than anything else, certainly for them. They understood it but never acknowledged it. He finally settled for letting his fingers stroke through her hair, feather light so that she wouldn't notice.

"What's our next move?" he said coldly, his jaw tensing at the mere thought of the corporate snake. "How are we going to bring Hardman down?"

"We're not," Jessica said quietly. The tone of her voice was as defeated as he ever heard it. "Ow!" she yelped suddenly, turning to face him.

He startled his face still hard with barely concealed anger. It took him a millisecond to realize that he had accidentally tugged at her hair in response to her surprising revelation. "Sorry, about that," he muttered, his hands resting on his knees as he leaned in closer to her. His tone was deliberately slow and calculated as he tried to keep his outrage at bay. "What the hell do you mean we aren't doing anything?" he spit out harshly.

"There's nothing left to do Harvey," Jessica said coolly, years of experience and a week of acceptance leaving her unaffected by his anger.

"Bullshit!" he spit out. "There…there are other things to do. There is anything to do. We can't just lie down and take this!"

"What's done is done, Harvey," she replied patiently, as if talking to a child throwing a temper tantrum.

"Like hell it is!" he all but shrieked. "Jessica, this is insane! This is-"

"We can't always win, Harvey…this, this is one of those times," she said quietly, plastering a bitter grimace on her face to mask her water eyes.

"But we're supposed to!" he protested. Distance be damned, he grabbed her hand roughly and squeezed it, as if he could will her to be persuaded. "What the hell is wrong with you?! The Jessica Pearson I know doesn't stop fighting. She doesn't give up!"

He was surprised to see that his words affected her. "You think I want this Harvey?" she managed to choke out, before clearing her throat. It was too late though; a tear broke free and trailed down her cheek despite her fighting like hell to prevent it. It almost left him breathless. "I'm not giving up…I'm just letting go."

He clenched his jaw in an effort to bite back anything else that would make her lose it. He always found himself craving to see beyond the mask, but her pain wasn't what he wanted or hoped for. "Okay," he said in a controlled voice. He let out a shaky breath as he reached towards her and wiped the remnants of her crying away. He felt her tense, felt the sharp intake of her breath, and the flash of something in her eye in the brief second that she gave into the comfort, her face leaning into his hand, before whatever it was in her eyes disappeared and she pulled back suddenly.

The action startled him beyond words and he found himself staring at her, eyes narrowing in consternation, but she gave no sign of anything. In fact her face was placid, strategically so, and her eyes were blank…and guarded with effort. A moment passed with his eyes never leaving hers, until she blinked, raised her eyebrow as if challenging him to comment on the tension and suspecting that he wouldn't.

He contemplated it, the war within him going strong, before he relented and let the moment pass. "We could start our own firm."

"You're serious?" she breathed out, partly aghast at his suggestion, partly relieved that he stuck to the topic at hand.

He merely glared at her in response.

"I'm not doing that-"

"Why the fuck not?" he spewed, feeling his frustration rise up again. Never had he experienced her being so damn difficult. A random thought in his head implied that maybe that was what it felt like for her dealing with him.

She sighed, rubbed her forehead, frowned when she looked down and seen that his hand went from holding hers to resting on her leg, his other arm back to resting on the edge of the couch, lightly touching her shoulder. She shuddered at the intimacy, tried to write it off as a shiver as she glanced out the window at the storm brewing outside.

"I'm not a young kid anymore," she sighed. "I worked so hard to get to where I am…where I was," she amended. "No way in hell I can just start over again…start anew," she gave a slight chuckle, her eyes meeting his again. "Besides, you can go off and do whatever you want now. You can rid yourself of me. No more feeling indebted," she joked quietly, turning to face the window again, sighing at the inconsistency of the rain. It'd beat hard and steady for a while, before softening to nothing more than a drizzle, then repeat.

"I don't want to rid myself of you!' his outburst, coupled with the way he squeezed her hand surprised him, but not nearly as much as it caught her off guard. He swallowed thickly, exhaled slowly but couldn't bring himself to feel the urge to take it back or amend it. It was true. He watched her stiffen at his revelation, seen the myriad of emotions flicker across her face before she was able to school it, befuddlement, surprise, sadness…and something else he couldn't quite make out.

"You think you deserve this don't you?" he asked firmly. When she attempted to ignore him, he grasped her chin, forcing her to face him. No holds bar, he'd broken all of the unspoken rules anyways, no harm in pushing it further. He canted his head to the side, eyes shooting daggers at her as he waited for her response.

"It's my fault," she snapped, as she jerked her head out of his hand shooting him a dirty look.

"No, we're in this mess because of me," he said, clenching his fist in frustration as he got lost in all the crap they'd gone through in the past few months.

"Some of it maybe, but even that falls on my shoulders Harvey," she argued. Her dark eyes were stormy as she met his gaze with no intentions of breaking away. "It's what we've known and talked about all this time. Everything you do, everything you say is a reflection on me. You're my responsibility. If you screw up. If anyone even thinks you screwed up, it falls on me. It's been that way from the beginning. That's why we're in this position," she sat up a little taller, and he noted some of the missing pieces of the old Jessica, of his Jessica, as she donned her trial face. "I made mistakes along the way and by the end…especially with that mock trial; I was responsible for airing out the firm's dirty laundry in front of Daniel. I was the one that gave him the ammunition to destroy me. I was the one that left all my weak points exposed for him to see and even though I knew what he had up his sleeve, I could have figured a way around it sooner. I screwed up, Harvey. I can admit that. And now…now I'm taking responsibility for it and facing the repercussions."

He shook his head at her. Prepared to argue against her, but couldn't stop the swell of respect he had for her….the reverence. It was so like her to be the fearless leader, willing to fall on her own sword for the people she cared about…even for the people she didn't care about. It was what he admired about her. It was he related to with her, and respected about her. She was her own worst critic, always harder on herself than she was on anyone else.

"Truth be told, I always knew our relationship would cost me greatly," she sighed, closed her eyes and hummed softly to the music playing…his father's music. She must have heard it a million times over the years. "I just didn't think it would be this soon."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked carefully, his interest piqued. He studied her, eyes sweeping over her face, her eyes were still closed, but a slight crease formed in her forehead as she frowned.

"You were raised to believe that emotions make you weak," she almost whispered, as though the quieter she said it the easier it would be for him to be reminded of it. He felt himself tense at the mere mention of it, and she must have felt it too, because much to his surprise her hand wrapped around his wrist and she gave him a comforting squeeze. "The truth is, emotions don't make you weak…they make you vulnerable," she absentmindedly begin drawing circles on his wrist with her finger, so lightly that he wasn't even sure she realized she was doing it.

"There's a difference between being weak and being vulnerable. Showing any emotion at any given time can be risky, because it can and will always be used against you. It's inevitable…and you can't escape it. Ever. There are many things that made me vulnerable at the firm. One of them was you."

She cleared her throat suddenly, pulling her hand away and opening her eyes. Her sudden movements pulled him out of whatever trance her previous ministrations had on him.

"To everyone else I favored you, and hell, maybe I did. It didn't matter that I tried to be the best I could be with all of my employees. It didn't matter that I was just as hard on you as I was singing your praises. It didn't matter that you earned everything that I gave you….but it was evident that I trusted you more than anyone else. It was evident that you were my second in command so to speak. There was no way of really hiding that, it was all out there in the open, and anyone disgruntled enough, anyone with any sort of vendetta or axe to grind could use it however they so choose to." She shrugged as she looked somewhere in his general direction avoiding his gaze."

"They were just jealous of what we have," he said smugly, without much thought he playfully tugged at a strand of her hair, silently pleased that she didn't put up a fight to the action.

"Possibly," she didn't contest. "That and they didn't understand it," she shrugged, toying with the fringe on one of the pillows lying between them.

He silently debated if he should say what he was thinking at that moment. The constant war of emotions that he battled with internally every time he was with her, did their usual tug and war. Seventy-five percent of him valued their friendship, their relationship so much that he never wanted to risk it for anything else. He needed it, he needed her and if there was even the slightest chance that he'd lose it or lose her he didn't know quite what he would have done. The same seventy five percent was what interfered with any of his relationships. The emotional distance that kept women at bay, the overwhelming fear of ever being vulnerable. But twenty-five percent of him didn't give a shit. That twenty five percent wanted to pounce on having more of her. That percentage argued that she'd stuck by him through the toughest of times and didn't abandon him even when she had every reason to. That percentage argued, who better to take a leap of faith with, than the woman who knew him so well, the woman who was him, in so many ways, in all the right ways…to the point where maybe this time it would work. That percentage of him was an optimistic bastard. It was a calculated risk, with unfavorable odds. But then again, he never played the odds…he played the man, and that man had nothing left to lose but definitely more to gain.

"Little do they know we don't understand our relationship…" he said purposefully. He deliberately penned her with the intensity of his stare, watching every micro expression on her face. He noticed the moment when his words and what they eluded to hit her. She tensed up again and let out a short gasp.

"Harvey," she covered up the unease with a warning tone.

"Jess…" he responded teasingly, shortening her moniker.

"We're not going to discuss this," she said carefully, giving him a warning glare.

"We never discuss it, that's the problem," he shot back.

"You just…"she averted her eyes and unfolded her legs. "You just want what you can't have. You're just drawn to the challenge, "she protested.

"No," he argued lightly, the intensity of his gaze never wavering. "Oh you definitely are challenging, but that's not why I want you," he said boldly.

"So what is it then, Harvey?" she said loudly as she rose from the couch and fumbled around for her shoes. She tried to sound agitated, angry even but he could hear the fear in her voice, and see it in her face no matter how hard she tried to cover it. "Is this about sex?"

"No," he said firmly looking up at her. He fought the urge to grab her hand, knowing that she needed the little bit of distance. "I can get sex anytime," he winced a bit at how arrogant it sounded but it wasn't as though it weren't true. "It has nothing to do with sex."

"You want to feel better…some quick fix to take your mind off all this bullshit we've gone through?"

"I admit I can't possibly feel any worse," he responded sarcastically.

"Then what is it, Harvey?" she inquired, trying hard to remain guarded. "Oedipal complex? Mommy issues? Teacher fantasies…"

"Don't," he cut her off with a growl. He sighed, looked down at his hands anxiously before looking back up at her. "Don't diminish what you are to me."

She scoffed, shaking her head firmly as she eyed the door. "You just love the chase," she said quietly, if he didn't know any better he'd say it was forlornly.

"No," he countered loudly. "I just…" he paused, rubbed his hands over his face and ruffled his hair. "I just love you…" he all but whispered. He watched as her mouth dropped open, eyes widened in unbridled shock, and she swayed back and forth on her feet, turning away from him and blushing.

"I did _not_ just say that."

"Yeah…yeah, you did," she said quickly. "And I'm…I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear that."

He jerked back hurt by her words, embarrassed at going against everything he tried to be and expressing his feelings. Worried that there was no way for them to bounce back from this one, because they'd gone too far…he had gone too far. But then, there was something about the expression on her face, there was something in the waver of her voice that fueled him.

"Tell me you never shared the sentiment and we'll pretend like this never happened," he said quietly. His voice sounded weak…no, vulnerable.

She must have heard it, because her eyes fell back on him again. Most likely against her better judgment, no matter what, he had a hold on her that she could never quite shake, and there was something about the way he sounded that sucked her right back in.

"We can never go back…" she whispered, as if that was argument enough. Weak as it was.

It was all the answer he needed, it was in the way she said it and the look in her eye that she tried to hide but couldn't. It was in the tremble of her voice and the rigidity of her body and the way she hugged herself in an effort to shut him out that gave him the little flair of hope that he needed.

"Maybe I don't want to go back!" he belted out, louder than he planned as he stood from his seat and planted himself right in front of her. There was a long silence between them, all being heard was the thumping of rain against the window and the scratching of the record player as it started his father's record all over again. They were at a standoff, staring one another down, neither of them wanting to look each other directly in the eye, but neither of them able to resist it.

"I should leave," she said quickly, as she brushed past him and hurried to the door.

"Jessica," he jogged after her, planting his palm against the door before she could open it. "I didn't mean it that way...I just meant, everything else has changed…why can't this?" he reasoned, his dark eyes boring into hers. "Please…" he cringed at how pleading he sounded.

He didn't know if it was the sound of his father's music playing in the background…the distant reminder that he didn't want to be like him. Or maybe it was that he was finally sick of being so guarded, on the defense, hiding away under an armored mask of indifference, arrogance, and charm. Maybe it was because he had thrown so much out there already, defied all of their unspoken rules, or was tired of the dance they did. The forbidden dance they did around their emotions, around all the things that they didn't say, around all the things that they alluded too. Whatever it was, all it took was one second, the brief second for her eyes to wander to his lips.

He had her pinned to the door before he could control himself. His hands running through her thick hair, lips soft and tentative against hers. He half expected her to pull away, break free of him and God knows what, run, slap him, calmly walk out and pretend as though it never happened. Instead what he got was her hands pressed against his chest, pulling at his Henley, trying to bring him closer. She sighed into his mouth, her hands raking down his chest and wrapping around his waist. Their tongues danced around each other's' mouths probing and exploring. She tasted sweet, savory, and so quintessentially Jessica.

He broke away from her, surprised over what had transpired, worried that he had gone too far, and yet undoubtedly hungry for more. He raked his hands through his hair, took a step back to catch his breath. He shuffled nervously, his eyes meeting hers uncertainly. "I'm sorry," he said softly, scratching at the back of his neck.

"No you're not," she said evenly, her face unreadable.

"No I'm not," he answered truthfully, his jaw tightening as he tried to gauge her reaction her.

Neither of them said anything as the music played on and the tension of the moment ebbed around them but refused to break.

She took a step towards him, rubbed at her forehead and sighed. "Neither am I."

He exhaled in a loud whoosh, as she reached out and rubbed away some of the lipstick that smeared on his face. She gave him a smirk, before wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him closer, to his complete and utter surprise. She kissed him again and he didn't take long to return the favor…breaking away from her lips and kissing down the length of her neck and shoulder. He felt her hands, trembling against him as her fingers tugged at the edge of his shirt before pulling it over his head. Her fingers were warm across the spans of his back and he growled as she scratched at his skin and smiled through their kiss. He pulled away again, looking every bit as guilty as the kid who snuck cookies out of the cookie jar.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he murmured, praying to God that she wouldn't say no.

"I'm willing to bet that if I answer that question it'll be the first and only time you'll actually listen to me," she chuckled, before answering him with a languid kiss.

He surprised her being so gentle and tender. She surprised him being so docile and relinquishing control. They lay there in tangled sheets as he trailed his fingers across her bare back. His mind racing.

"Spit it out," she murmured that knowing look on her face that he loved and loathed.

"Get out of my head," he quipped, lightly smacking her ass.

"Hell no," she shot back. "I'm not getting out of your bed either. What's the thread count on these sheets?" she pondered, running her hand across them before resting on his chest. "I swear I paid you too much."

He snorted as he pulled her closer to him.

"You still haven't answered the question. What's on your mind?"

He sighed, willing himself to focus on the ceiling and ignore the way her eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face. "Do you regret it?" he asked evenly, trying not to emote.

"There isn't a second that goes by where I don't regret you," she said coolly, ignoring the way he tensed beneath her touch. "You're Harvey Specter; you're a goddamn bastard for all purposes…"she tried to hide the smile pulling at her lips. "It's like a civil war going on in my head when it comes to you. Half of me wants to be able to cut ties whenever you pull one of your many stunts. But the other half can't let you go."

"Ouch," he murmured, feigning hurt at her words but smirking despite himself.

"Every day you give me a reason to regret many things, Harvey. But despite it all I wouldn't have it any other way. Not then…and not now…" her voice trailed off as her eyelids fluttered closed. Her soft breath against his chest evened out as she slept.

"Some wars are worth losing." He muttered softly as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head.

~o~


End file.
